One Life To Live, One Love To Give
by writingluverr82
Summary: 'A picture is worth a thousand words. And those thousand words show a life together with the one person you care the most about.' Drabbles about Ron & Hermione's life together.
1. Photographs

Every picture stands out in its own way. Whether someone was sneezing as the picture was taken, or a child is looking the wrong direction. Each picture is significant in the way we continue to live our lives. If we don't like something in it we change it. Pictures work in that kind of way, it shows us our personality, who we love and who we don't. A picture is worth a thousand words. And those thousand words show a life together with the one person you care the most about.

Ronald Weasley wasn't smart. He wasn't the best cook, or the best wizard. He couldn't tell you a spell on how to clean your bedroom off the top of his head or even the spell to stun you without thinking about it for a few minutes. Ronald Weasley may not even be able to tell you how to tie your shoes for the life in him, but what he could tell you was that he was in love. He was proud to tell you too. Anything and everything that came out of his mouth was 'Hermione this,' 'Hermione that,' Harry had been his best friend and Hermione's for twelve years and he had never heard him say Hermione's name so much. But he blamed the constant talk of Hermione on Ron's current relationship status.

Pictures covered the flat Ron and Hermione shared most all of them moving. Hermione fancied the ones that were still, but still enjoyed looking at the moving ones. The photographs on the mantle of the fireplace seemed to bring joy to the dark flat. Hermione would stand looking at each picture almost every day, remembering some of the times she had with Ron or Harry. The good and bad, the hurt and love, the past and present, each and every photograph held a special place in her heart. She had memorized each and every picture, she knew where they were and what they were doing. The photographs gave her a sense of hope. She had made it through the past, and can get through anything that may happen in the future. It was a sense of comfort, as well. By placing the pictures on the mantle, it was her way of calling the small little flat home.

Hermione pulled the blankets around her small figure, the lit fire only giving off enough heat for one room, and the candle only giving enough light for her body and book in her hand. A crash of thunder shook the flat and lightening lit up the room. The electricity had gone out and it was only her home that night. It bothered her when Ron was at work for so long. She worried too much, he would say. She would scoff and say he was being ridiculous. But in her heart, she knew he was right. She worried each and every day she would lose him exactly like two years ago while they were on the run. She worried he would find someone prettier or better or smarter. It sickened her.

Another flash of lightening made her jump, and help her forget about her thoughts. Ron was alright, he was safe with Harry. Harry would protect him. She closed her book, giving up after reading the same sentence three times and laid her head on the pillow of the couch. She allowed herself to sleep, to release her thoughts from her mind and surrender to what her body was telling her.

Ronald Weasley hated the rain. He hated apparating in the rain, he just hated everything about it. He even hated driving in the rain-although it was something he rarely did. He looked out the window of the pub he visited every day after work with Harry, and saw the rain slowly falling down the window. He tapped his fingers and placed his head in his hands, looking into space. He looked at Harry, who had started a conversation with the bartender about Quidditch. Ron knew he wouldn't be missed in the conversation. All he wanted to do was go home, his muscles ached from Auror training, and head throbbed from thinking too much about his life. He wanted to hold Hermione in his arms and feel her body on his. Ron pulled out his wand and Dissaparated on the spot.

The flat was quiet for a Monday night. Ginny usually came over for dinner, Ron looked around the flat and noticed the dirty dishes in the sink, he looked at his watch.

"Bloody hell," he mumbled. It was past midnight. He couldn't believe he was out that long not even enjoying himself. He walked to their tiny living room and saw Hermione curled into a ball on the couch. Her tamed hair was spread out around the pillow and he saw pink sweatpants peeking out beneath the blanket. He chuckled removing his jacket and sitting at the end of the couch. Ron slid closer, feeling the need to grab her in his arms and carry her to bed. She stirred in her sleep, coughing.

"Ron," she mumbled. "Are you home? Please say you are." Ron stood up making his way toward her and sat on the floor at her head.

"I'm here, Hermione." He smiled, brushing his thumb over her cheek.

"I've been waiting for you. I was hoping you'd come home when Ginny got here for dinner." She said sleepily.

"I'm sorry, love." He whispered, kissing her hand. "My classes went late and Harry kept me at the pub. If I had known what time it was, stupid Muggle watch…" his voice trailed off.

"I gave you that watch," she smirked.

"It's not useful all the time, you know." He laughed.

"Oh, I know."

Hermione pushed herself up, patting the spot next to her for Ron to sit down. He laid his head down on her lap, his whole body relaxing. She began to run her fingers through his hair, "I love you." She whispered.

"I love you, Hermione." He said back, not wanting to make it sound like he only said it because she did. Her soft fingers, made his mind go blank and his eyes lids slowly became heavier.

"5th year." She said softly. "I fell in love with you." She smiled, her eyes closed as if trying to remember the exact moment. "I went home for the beginning of Christmas vacation, to see my family. And I couldn't understand why I was so sad all the time. I should have been happy to be with my family since I never see them during the school year, but I couldn't seem to laugh or smile. It was terrible. But then when I got the owl from you inviting me to your house for Christmas, my mood changed. I was happy, and excited to see you. I made myself believe I was excited to get away from the constant nagging about why I didn't have a boyfriend from my parents, but honestly…I was happy to be seeing you're beautiful face and spending every second with you and I was distraught because I was away from you." She paused, Ron felt a tear fall from her face onto his. "You mean the world to me, Ron. I don't want to lose you again." He knew she was referring to two years ago.

"Hermione," he brought his head up to hers. "I'll never be able to forgive myself for leaving you and Harry by yourselves. But that's never going to happen again. I love you more than anything, and I was stupid to let you go, but I'm here now. And I'll spend the rest of our lives together making it up to you." Ron wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her onto his lap he held her as she cried. He pulled the blanket tight around the both of them. Slowly her sobs subsided and she fell asleep in his arms. He, too, fell asleep, as another crash of lightening lit up the room, as if the sky had wanted one last photograph of them, wrapping in each other's arms.


	2. Breath

Ron felt the warm breath of the girl, sleeping soundly next to him, on his neck. As he turned toward her he got caught in her silky brown hair. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her bare body. This was all so new to him, feeling the woman he loved in his arms, being able to kiss her, love her. He was seeing things in a different light, not just because the end of the war, but because Ron realized in a matter of minutes how much he really did love Hermione.

It wasn't on impulse, nor was it because he thought they were going to die. No, that wasn't it. He had known for a long time how much he truly loved Hermione, how much she meant to him, he never knew how she had felt. He felt Hermione shift her weight in the bed. He brought his lips slowly down to her soft milky skin.

"Good morning," he whispered softly. Hermione turned to face him, she brought the sheet with her considering she was still a little embarrassed about what happened last night. Her cold hands touched Ron's warm cheek.

"It is a good morning isn't it?" Hermione chuckled softly.

"Yes, very good." Ron chuckled, wrapping a hair around Hermione's ear. "I've always wanted to do that, you know." Hermione chuckled and didn't say a word, everything was perfect. She wanted to soak the moment in and never let it go.

Hermione still saw Ron lying next to her as he was when he was eleven. Although, clearly, he was no longer a scrawny red head. She lightly traced the muscles on his stomach. The sun came shooting through the window and she felt the warmth of the sun on her bare back. How had she gotten so lucky to wake up every morning next to Ronald Weasley? She dreamt of being with him since she first met him. Wondering what he looked like in the morning and if she even crossed his mind during the day.

She didn't have to wonder anymore. She didn't have to worry anymore that he would fall in love with Lavender Brown and he would never hurt her. She smiled against his chest, soaking in the warmth of his skin. This was where she belonged, in the arms of the one man she would always love.


	3. Dreaming

Ron watched the sleeping baby in her crib. With his head on his hands, he could relax for only a little while. He could hear the soft sounds of his daughters breathing, and rubbed her soft milky skin with his thumb. Her beautiful blue eyes resembled his in the most perfect way. Her bright red hair assured him that she was his and reminded him he was a father, a nurturer. Her pink lips pursed in her sleep. Dreaming, he hoped, wonderful dreams. That's all he wanted for her, a beautiful wonderful life, for her to keep dreaming. He wanted to give her everything he never had and more.

"Ron, why are you still up?" A petite brunette yawned. She wrapped her thin arms around his waist. "Please come to bed."

"In a minute," he whispered, placing his hands on top of hers. "I want to watch her sleep. She looks so peaceful, like nothing could hurt her. I wish that was true, but it isn't true, of course." he sighed.  
>"I know, I feel the same way." Hermione mumbled against his bare shoulder. "Almost as if I can no longer protect her. She isn't inside me anymore. And now everything seems so..."<p>

"Unknown." Ron finished. Hermione hadn't expected that from him, but she always underestimated how intelligent her husband really was.

"My words exactly." she said. Ron took her hand and led them out of the pink nursery, into their room across the hall. He couldn't help but wonder what having a son would feel like. Oh well, one man can only dream so much.


	4. Dust

His heart was forgotten alone on the floor, Hermione Jean Granger tried to pick it up and brushed the dust that it had collected but it was no use. After the death of his brother, Ronald Weasley was broken. She could see the pain in his blue eyes when the light of the candlelight flickered. She watched him in pain, like a bird still and alone with wings tattered and ripped from the things he's seen. She watched him sit on the couch alone, the candle his only company.

"Please don't ignore me, Ron." she whispered, as she rubbed his shoulder while sitting down.

"Hermione," he mumbled softly. "I'm sorry." he placed his head in his hands and his body shook.

"Oh, Ron," her voice shook. "Ron," she pulled his hands away from his face. "Look at me, please." she plead. He was the only thing she ever cared for. She felt her heart beating unevenly, as she caught his eyes.

"Hermione, you are so strong and brave and beautiful and I," his word got lost in a sea of sobs.

"Ron, I am only those things because of you." she whispered, absentmindedly tracing circles with her thumb on the back of his neck. "You make me be those things. Do you think I could have destroyed the cup without you?" Hermione asked, bringing back the memory of events that had happened only days before. "Maybe I would have figured out how everything worked-"

"You would've." he mumbled.

"But that's not the point, Ronald." she said gently. "If I would have been alone I wouldn't have had enough courage to destroy it. With you there I felt safe and protected." she pursed her lips and continued. "I knew that if something went wrong you wouldn't let anything happen to me."

He lifted his head, "Why do you trust me so much?"

Hermione stood up, walking towards the mantle of the fireplace. Pictures of the Weasley family filled every empty space. "We've been through more terrible things in seventeen years than one has in a lifetime." she traced her thin fingers over the forming scars on her arms. "But we've also had the happiest." she smiled, unable to look at Ron. "At least for me anyway." she chuckled softly, a small tear sliding down her cheek. "I trust you with my life."

Ron got up from the couch, unable to pity himself anymore abs remember that this was just as hard on Hermione as it was on him. He reached for her arm, glancing at the forming scars and bruises on it, "How can you even say that? If I didn't get to you when I did.." his voice faded, unable to comprehend what could have happened to her.

"Ron, it's not your fault."

"If I had just gotten there sooner, maybe.."

She shushed him, "I don't blame you for anything, Ron. None of it is your fault. I'm here. I made it. I'm alive." she turned around, placing her hands on her chest. "I'm still alive and I'm not going anywhere." he brought his hands up to her cheeks, pressing his forehead against hers.

"I think I'm in love with you, Ronald Weasley." she whispered, her brown eyes boring into his.

"I know I'm in love with you." Their lips met in an intense moment of passion, each putting as much love and emotion into the kiss as the other. Hermione never thought she could want someone so much. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he held her weight up against the fireplace. Their bodies intermingled in something so simple and beautiful as the dust on the mantle of the fireplace.

_A/N: Have you all seen Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Pat 2 movie yet? If not, you need to see it now. I loved it! But I had such high expectations for the movie that I feel like some things let me down, but I do believe it's the best out of all of them, and I'll admit I cried like a baby when I left the movie theater knowing that my childhood was over. Anyways, this drabble is based on the song by Cara Salimando called Dust. It's such a beautiful song! Hope you all are enjoying your summer holiday!_


	5. Paint

"'Mione, why can't we just wave our wands over the walls, instead of doing it the Muggle way?" Ron slapped his thighs in aggravation.

"Because Ronald," she wiped a drip of sweat from her forehead with her arm. "Magic doesn't need to be the only thing we use. This is what I always had to do when I painted my room over the summers. Besides," she smiled, turning to him, "It's relaxing."

Ron cursed under his breath and chuckled. What he wouldn't do for Hermione. With his arm aching, he slowly picked up the paintbrush again and made small strokes on the wall.

Hermione was always adamant about making their life as normal as possible. Ron knew that was almost _im_possible, but she was happy and grateful that he made these little things possible. He would do whatever he could to make her happy and if this was it, he would do it.

Ron watched Hermione dip her paintbrush in a cup of paint and began touching up spots they missed. He smirked at the way she looked; her bangs and no longer bushy hair were pulled back with a bandana tied in the back, her plaid shirt was rolled up to her elbows, her jean shorts were short enough-and shirt long enough-that it made it look like she wasn't wearing anything for pants. Hermione usually never dressed this way, but she knew Ron should at least enjoy some hard work one way or another. Paint marks covered her legs and arms; her shirt was stained with paint as well.

Hermione looked over her shoulder to see Ron watching her paint. "What are you looking at?" she teased. Ron put his hand on his hip and looked at her intensively.

"How beautiful you look painting."

"Yeah, right." she chuckled.

"No joke," he smiled. Hermione turned on her heels towards him, with her paintbrush still in hand.

"You think you're just so smart don't you?" she smirked, shaking the paintbrush at him. "You think that if you tell me I'm beautiful and look at me a certain way that I'll sleep with you."  
>Ron grinned at her, rubbing his chin.<p>

"You know, 'Mione, you shouldn't always think that all I want is sex, because I do want and like other things." He teased, moving closer to her.

"Then why is it that whenever you look at me you have that stupid silly grin on your face?" she teased back.

Ron had to think for a moment of how to respond to that question. To Hermione, he had apparently run out of time considering she began to flick the paintbrush at him, splattering him with red paint.

"Bloddy hell," he laughed, picking up his paintbrush. "You're going to pay for that, Hermione."  
>"You'll have to catch me first!" she smirked, and began running around the room. Ron chased her to the kitchen, finally catching her by wrapping his arms around her waist.<p>

He kissed her neck, mumbling against her milky skin, "Caught you."

She turned around and into his arms, "You did."

"You didn't have a chance, Hermione Granger."

"Oh, I know," she placed her hand on his chest. "Sometimes its fun to imagine." her lips curled into a smile.

"What do you imagine?"

"A future. Well that's not really imagining is it? Because I don't have to question it anymore like I had to when the war was going on. I can begin to heal and dream about it and plan for it." she smiled. He wrapped her arms around her waist lifting her up off the ground.

"Planning for a future? Well, that sounds exactly like the Hermione Granger I've come to know and love." he smirked, setting her back on the ground. He brushed a stray hair of her bangs out of her face. A simple gesture, that Ron did daily, which made her feel beautiful. No one could ever make her feel the way Ron Weasley did. And she knew that's the way it would be forever.


	6. Thinking

_Summary:_ It's a funny thing, love, it makes you wonder who you are, what you've become and where you want to go, someone had told you that long ago, but you couldn't remember who, maybe it was your mother.

_AN (1):_ Recommended music: Thinking of You by Katy Perry

_AN (2):_ Third time I've seen Harry Potter this week. Loved it and cried as much as I did the first time. I love all the Ron/Hermione scenes. I do wish they had added more. Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter.

**Thinking**

…..

You think of her at the times when you least expect it. You think of her during the times you're training to be an Auror because it reminds you why you wanted to become one: to protect her. You think of her when it's raining because she loves the rain. It's a funny thing, love, it makes you wonder who you are, what you've become and where you want to go, someone had told you that long ago, but you couldn't remember who, maybe your mother.

If someone had told you that you would fall in love with Hermione Granger you would have thought they were a nutter. To you, at eleven, you thought this girl called Hermione with buck teeth and bushy brown hair, was an insufferable know-it-all and would never have any friends. Never in a million years would you have thought she would become your best friend and even more so, your wife.

You believe you're the luckiest man in the world, as you sit on the couch in your flat, with your arm around Hermione. Something as simple as holding her in your arms could make the worries of the world disappear.

Reluctantly, you remove your arm from around her waist, knowing you have papers that are due in the morning that you just remembered. The soft, calming music from the kitchen turns on from a flick of your wand. Hermione smiles and grabs her book off the coffee table, happy to no longer be distracted by the television set.

You notice the way she's reading her book, much different from the way she normally reads books. She holds a highlighter in her hand, underlining almost every other line and has the book on her lap, not up by her nose.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" you ask, baffled by the odd behavior.

"Reading." she says, not looking up.

"Yes, but Hermione, you don't normally highlight your books." you shake your head.  
>She slowly lifts the book from her lap. You let out a gasp as you read the cover.<p>

"Pregnancy for Dummies?" you ask softly, completely dumbfounded.

"Ginny gave it to me as a joke. Her and Harry bought it when they visited Florida." to you her sentence seems unfinished.

"But?" you ask, holding out the word.

"I found out today that I'm pregnant." she looks at you sheepishly, a small smile on her face.  
>You look at her completely dumbfounded, had she really just said that? "Really?" was all that escaped your lips, your voice breaking even with the simplest of words.<p>

"I couldn't joke about something like that, Ronald." she said softly, without any anger or aggravation in her voice.

"I'm going to be a father?" you say, a small smile creeping on your face. You hear Hermione sigh softly, as if she was scared of what you'd say. "I'm going to be a dad." you hope that by saying it more than once that it might sink in.

Hermione chuckles and places her book on the table. She slides onto your lap, wrapping her arms around your neck. "You are," she whispers into your ear. You feel an urgent need to kiss her milky skin anywhere you possibly can.

"You're brilliant, Hermione Weasley." you smile and pull your wife closer to you, memorizing this exact moment in your head, keeping it for a rainy day. This was your life, you realize. And this is exactly the way you've always wanted it to be.


End file.
